


Hymns

by WhisperElmwood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, M/M, Masturbation, Swearing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperElmwood/pseuds/WhisperElmwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never knows why he has the urge to go to the church that night, but he doesn't care, because it's pretty much the best thing that ever happened to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hymns

**Author's Note:**

> Not yet BETA'd - this is an SPNKinkmeme fill, prompt: Dean/Cas - Blasphemy and Masturbation. Cas has to be the one to masturbate. PLEASE. And Dean walks in on it. Points for in a church, bible verses being thrown about - specifically in worship to Dean. Sexytimes should ensue. Make it hot, make it blasphemous. I don't care about hell if you don't.

Dean never knows what it was that drew him to the church; it remains, to this day, one of those unsolved mysteries of his life. Not one that he particularly worries about though, as this unsolved mystery meant he and Cas… 

Anyway. So it started when Dean woke up one night in Virginia. There was no reason for it, at least, nothing he could remember; he’d long grown accustomed to Sam’s snoring, so it wasn’t that. He’d been having a rare good night; no memories of Hell, no fears, no nightmares at all. 

There was a lingering sense of being watched, but he and Sam were alone in the room, so he ignored it. It didn’t feel malicious anyway, more like that sense he had whenever Cas stayed in the room with them overnight.

He ran a hand over his face, through his hair – only then realising he’d need to get a hair-cut soon – and grunted slightly before flinging the sheets back. Glancing at Sam, he assured himself that his brother was fine, then padded to the tiny beige bathroom. 

Standing in the hideously 70’s room, door firmly closed and only the flickering light above the sink on, Dean stared at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, he decided absently. With another grunt, he splashed his face with luke-warm water, swilled his mouth out and stared for a moment again. 

He could just see the hand-print on his shoulder peeking out beneath the sleeve of his faded old Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He’d long gotten used to the mark, but still, standing there feeling a little uncharacteristically weird, Dean reached up and pressed his hand to the scar.   
Nothing. As usual. He snorted and wiped his face with one of the thread-bare motel towels and flicked the light off. Back in the main room again, he paused, listening. 

Sam was still snoring gently; he’d shifted position slightly in the few minutes Dean had been in the bathroom, but that wasn’t anything unusual. 

Not sure why he was even doing it, Dean pulled his jeans on, quickly, quietly. He stuffed his feet in his boots, not taking the time to lace them just yet, grabbed his jacket and the second set of keys to the room. Glancing once more at Sam, he stepped out into the chill morning air and closed the door softly behind him. 

He laced his boots quickly, pulled his jeans down over them to keep the chill off his ankles and stood, tucking his hands into his pockets. He didn’t move for a long moment, simply breathed and listened, looking around at the mostly empty world. With a shrug and a passing thought that he was probably being an idiot, Dean turned right and started walking.

When he saw the church, he realised that was where he had been heading all along. He still had no idea why. He just knew he had to be there. 

It was a nice enough place. Old from the look of it; red-brick, stained glass windows, pale, heavy looking door. St. Luke’s Church, if he remembered correctly. He probably did, he was pretty sure Sam mentioned it in passing while researching earlier. 

Dean trudged up the grass, past the gravestones and unmarked plots to the pale door, glancing around as he did. He was finally beginning to get a little uneasy, but he didn’t actually feel threatened in any way. So he stepped up to the door and tried the handle. 

It opened without a hitch, so quietly as to be almost silent, and he took great care not to let the catch clonk. Dean pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it again behind himself. 

He stayed where he was, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness and slowly became aware of a low sound. A low susurration in a voice that, even in such a hushed tone, was immediately familiar to him. 

Castiel. 

He couldn’t make out the words, not exactly, but the timbre of the Angel’s voice sent shivers down his spine and Dean took an involuntary step further into the Church. He paused, stiffening, when Castiel’s voice paused, uttered a low guttural moan, and then continued once more. 

Dean swallowed. The church wasn’t very big in the first place, and Castiel’s voice sounded very close, but it could be bouncing off the walls, off the ancient tiles on the floor. He was almost certain, though, that Castiel was actually somewhere very nearby. 

He almost stopped breathing when he heard another moan. A second later, Castiel’s voice rose slightly and Dean finally began to make out the words. 

“P-praise God in His sanctuary…Praise Him – Praise Him in His m-mighty expanse.” 

Dean didn’t recognise precisely what Castiel was saying, but it definitely sounded like something from the Bible. The way Castiel’s voice was broken and soft and deep as he murmured the words had Dean’s skin flushing, his cock twitching. 

“Praise Him for – for His m-mighty deeds; P-praise Him ah-according to – to His excellent-“ 

Dean startled slightly when Castiel cut himself off with another groan. It was the word mixed into the groan that had him moving though. ‘Dean’; Castiel had groaned ‘Dean’ and that was more than enough to spur him forward. There was a possibility – there was always a possibility – that Castiel was in pain; but this definitely sounded like pleasure. 

Dean was only obliquely aware of a lingering worry that Castiel was becoming so human now. So human that he hadn’t realised he was being overheard, that he wasn’t alone in the church building. Sure, he sounded busy – and it took a stronger man than even Dean felt he was to lose concentration when doing what it sounded like Castiel was doing – but this was the first time Castiel hadn’t reacted immediately to Dean’s presence.

Dean pushed the worries aside as he moved closer to his goal.

Castiel was as close as he’d thought. As soon as he stepped into the main hall, he was immediately aware of an enclosed, boxy space to his right; aware of it, in that he knew Castiel was there, right there. 

He turned, slowly, swallowing at the sight he beheld. 

Castiel was sitting on one of the benches, trench coat spread out like wings to either side, jacket pushed open, tie hanging as loose as it ever did. He had Jimmy’s belt unbuckled, slacks open and pushed down his thighs. His long legs were parted, spread open and stretched out as far as they could go before getting tangled in the Baptismal Font in the centre of the alcove.

Dean couldn’t help it, his eyes were drawn straight to the large, square hand and long delicate fingers wrapped around a cock he’d never thought he’d actually see. Castiel had pulled Jimmy’s cock free from his under-wear, pushing the dark blue cotton down with the slacks. The Angel was bare from navel to mid-thigh, dark coarse hair trailing down his belly, into a thatch of thick hair. What he could see of Jimmy’s cock caused his own to harden further. It was thick, uncut, purpling with need, already slick with pre-come.

The Angel hadn’t yet noticed him. The hand wrapped around Jimmy’s cock kept going, not too fast, not too slow, as if drawing out all the pleasure he could, as if assured of his privacy in this Holy building. 

Castiel’s eyes were closed, his head resting back against the wall as he recited Biblical quotations to himself, breath hitching and breaking the recitations at random moments. 

Abruptly, Dean wanted to know what Castiel was imagining, what any Angel would picture when pleasuring themselves. He wondered if Jimmy had any say in it and for a second, entertained the idea of Castiel thinking of him. Thinking of Dean Winchester taking Jimmy’s cock in his hand, or his mouth. Thinking of Dean Winchester pushing his cock into Jimmy’s body, taking him hard and fast, or slow and loving.   
The fantasies playing through his own mind, coupled with the sight of Castiel pleasuring himself so openly, so wantonly, without a care in the world for intruders or voyeurs, had Dean’s cock so hard he thought a single brush against his crotch would have him exploding in orgasm. 

He must have shifted unconsciously, for Castiel’s eyes flew open and his hand stilled, voice stuttering to a halt mid verse. The two paused for long moments, in strange tableau and Dean let his eyes wonder again over Castiel’s body, taking in the languid pose, the rumpled clothing, the dark hair trailing down his stomach.

Dean licked his lips and finally met Castiel’s gaze. 

“D-Dean.” Castiel let go of Jimmy’s cock and pushed himself up, shuffling back, sitting straighter suddenly, hands grabbing at the waist-band of pants and underwear. 

“Don’t – Cas – geeze,” Dean couldn’t quite get his brain to work. The sight of Castiel spread out and vulnerable, obviously enjoying himself, with Dean’s name on his lips had ramped up Dean’s own arousal. He was hard and aching in his now uncomfortably tight jeans and he  _wanted_. 

There was a niggling worry in the back of his mind again, but the impulse to touch and taste was too strong to be ignored right now.  
He stepped forward, lifting his hands in a conciliatory gesture, “Don’t move,” he managed to say lowly, his voice shaking only slightly. Before Castiel could move any further – though that was a lie, if he’d wanted to, Castiel could be gone in a blink of the eye, Dean took his continued presence as an encouraging sign – Dean stepped over and sank to his knees between Castiel’s spread thighs, the Angel’s eyes on him the whole time, following every movement. 

“Dean – what?”

“Shh, let me?” He gave Castiel’s surprised, confused – almost stricken – expression an assured grin and he slipped his hands over the Angel’s – Jimmy’s – thighs. That gave him slight pause, even as Castiel relaxed again, a soft moan slipping from his lips. 

Dean had hesitated for weeks, months, to act on his urges, his feelings, because of Jimmy. He needed to know, before he went too much further. He looked at Castiel again, eyes searching his expression, and asked quietly, “Cas. Cas, is Jimmy..?” 

Castiel’s eyes fluttered, before closing again, “He, Jimmy is aware,” he murmured, and Dean watched his lips. “He has no objections.”   
Dean sighed gently. That assuaged that fear at least. He relaxed and smiled, smoothing his hands up Castiel’s thighs again, moving them to gently grip his hips. He paused, thumbs rubbing small circles into sharp hip-bones and Castiel took that moment to lift one hand and slide it into Dean’s hair. 

“Let them praise His name in the dance; Let them sing praises unto Him.” Castiel’s voice had taken on that low timbre again, as he looked down at him, eyes wide, his expression full of wonder and something else Dean couldn’t read. Dean shivered, shifted his gaze away from Castiel’s and took the plunge. 

He licked a slow stripe up the underside of Castiel’s cock, cheeks flushing again as he moaned deeply, the fingers in his hair tightening convulsively. He hadn’t done this for a long time, but damn he was already remembering how much he enjoyed it. Cas’s –  _Jimmy’s_ – cock was heavy, hard and at the same time that almost velvety softness he relished. 

He licked another stripe before taking the head into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around it in leisurely swipes, tasting him, teasing him, enjoying the breathy moans cascading from Castiel’s lips above him. 

Castiel’s hands moved to his shoulders, gripping tightly as the Angel broke into another quote, another one Dean failed to recognise.   
“I – I will praise thee – with my whole heart: be-before the gods…will I sing praise…unto thee.” 

Seriously, if Castiel kept this up, he’d develop a new kink. Bible verses had never been so, well, downright sexy before. Hearing them in Castiel’s deep, pleasure laden voice was intoxicating.

He let Castiel’s voice wash over him, barely hearing the verses as the Angel recited, voice breaking, catching with each twist of Dean’s tongue, every lave, every exploration of ridges and creases. Dean hummed appreciatively and glanced up to gauge Castiel’s reaction.   
The Angel stuttered in his recitation, hips bucking slightly, fingers tightening into Dean’s jacket. Castiel’s eyes fluttered again, before his gaze locked on Deans. He looked wrecked, lips parted and wet, pupils blown. It was definitely a good look. Making a decision, Dean relaxed his throat as much as he could and took in as much of the length as was possible, swallowing and humming around the hard flesh. 

“Oh – D-Dean!” 

He couldn’t smile, of course, but Castiel’s reaction spurred him on and he gripped the Angel’s hips tighter, attempting to hold him still as he sucked him down, working his throat, almost burying his nose in coarse hair with each downward bob. 

“Y-you have – oh! – proved my heart. You ha - ah! - have visited me – visited me in the night. You have tried – tried me – a-and found… Dean!” 

Damn. Seriously. The Bible quotes really were working. For the both of them. Dean shifted slightly, trying to relieve the pressure on his own cock. 

Castiel’s hands scrabbled against his shoulders, his hips bucking against Dean’s grip. He kept going, sucking, laving, working Castiel’s cock, knowing he was almost there. The Bible quotes had died, disappeared into panting moans of pleasure, Castiel’s voice even more broken. But the Angel managed one more word, hissed between clenched teeth, a warning that Dean ignored.

“Dean!” 

Castiel’s cock pulsed, almost violently, in Dean’s mouth, in his throat, as the Angel came. The orgasm hit sudden and hard and for all that Dean could tell, more powerfully than Castiel had been expecting. Fingers tightened painfully on Dean’s shoulders, and he was sure he’d have bruises come morning. Castiel’s hips lifted, forcing his cock deeper into Dean’s throat and he swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, taking everything, attempting to hold Castiel still and failing. 

When Castiel calmed and slumped back bonelessly into the bench, hands now resting lightly on Dean’s shoulders, Dean pulled away from his softening cock, licking up missed smears of come as he did. He looked up, caught Castiel’s eyes with his own and smirked at him.   
“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was lazy now, and that was a first. Dean had heard Castiel angry, curious, bemused, even upset – but never lazy. He leaned up and kissed him, chastely at first, a simple press of their lips. But Castiel’s lips parted, perhaps in surprise, and Dean took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

In seconds, the kiss turned from curious, testing the waters, to passionate and deep, hungry in a matter of seconds. 

Dean’s cock throbbed relentlessly with the need for his own release, but he held himself in check. He still didn’t know how far Castiel would let him go, how far Jimmy would let him go. On top of those worries was the fear of Heaven’s reprisal if he and Castiel should do something that went above and beyond what Heaven and the Angel’s would tolerate. 

Castiel surprised him though by pulling him up, moving him, shifting him, until Dean was seated on the bench, the Angel straddling him. The kiss hadn’t broken once in all the shifting and movement, but when Castiel stopped moving and relaxed against him, Dean pulled away slightly.

Locking their gazes, Dean smoothed his hands over Castiel’s hips and up, under the loose shirt, round and over the Angel’s back. Castiel arched slightly, lithely, into the touch, his eyes dropping closed as he breathed a soft sigh.

A surge of  _want_ , of  _need_ , hit Dean again and he mouthed wetly at Castiel’s throat, nipping at the hard rise of collar bones. He didn’t know how to voice his desire, so he simply wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled him close, holding him tight as he kissed, licked and nipped at the expanse of skin in front of him. 

Castiel moaned, long and deep, his arms circling Dean’s neck, long fingers digging into his hair. The low sound had Dean’s hips jerking upward, bringing his trapped erection flush against Castiel’s, Jimmy’s naked backside. 

“Fuck.” He muttered, forcing himself still, the curse pressing out against unshaven skin, his lips tingling at the sensation.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was rough, rougher than usual. When Dean looked up, the Angel was looking down at him with eyes gone dark with desire, pupils so blown there was only a thin ring of blue circling the black. Dean swallowed, arms tightening around Castiel’s torso.  
Castiel smiled; not the small, half smile that he occasionally shocked out of him, but a warm curving of Jimmy’s full lips accompanied by crinkling crows-feet. Dean didn’t normally use the term to describe men – or beings currently in male vessels – but that smile was beautiful.   
As distracted as he was, it took Dean a moment to work out that Castiel had dropped his hands to Dean’s crotch. The Angel fumbled with the button for a moment, before popping it free and attacking the zipper. 

Dean swallowed again, “Cas, I want… I need.” He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head and a small groan as Castiel worked the zipper down and began to tug the jeans open. 

“Take, Dean,” Castiel murmured against his temple, “I offer myself willingly. I want you to take. ‘Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh’.” 

That sounded like another quote – one so appropriate it had Dean muffling a chuckle against Castiel’s chest. The chuckle turned into a nuzzle, as his hands slid down and gripped Castiel’s wrists, fingers bruisingly tight. 

“I want to, Cas’. Fuck I want to,” he breathed against the thin cloth of Jimmy’s shirt, “But what… Heaven, the other Angels… Fuck. Scared you’ll never get home.” He laughed slightly, brokenly, and continued in an angry mutter, “Not that the fucking blowjob helped.” He was angry at himself for that, now, the sudden impulse and his acquiescence to it. 

He should put a stop to this, however much he wanted to continue, however deeply he  _desired_ , however strongly he  _felt_. 

Castiel sighed into his hair, “Human’s.” His tone was accusatory now, “I will never understand why the physical manifestation of love is seen with such fear.” Dean’s fingers stung slightly when Castiel pulled his wrists free and brought his hands up to cup Dean’s face, tilting his head, making him look up. 

“My Father is love. The Prophets and compilers of the Bible have much to answer for. God would not condemn this. Some of my Brother’s and my Sister’s may look down upon it, but there is no wrong, no taint of evil.” 

Dean tried to protest, but it was like Castiel could see into his head all over again.

“It will not damage my Grace, Dean.” Dean was bathed in the warmth of that smile again, “And I have long made my decision to defy my siblings,” he paused, leaning down and forward, bringing their lips together as he continued, “This will affect nothing. I want this, Dean. Allow yourself to take what is freely offered for once.” 

Dean swallowed again, thickly, his lips tingling where Castiel’s had brushed them as he spoke. He couldn’t reply, his mind had gone blank, his voice dried up, so he nodded instead, his hands once more finding their way to Castiel’s hips. He pushed him back slightly, moving the Angel’s weight from his crotch. Immediately, Castiel’s hands were down and forcing his jeans wider, pulling his boxers open. 

The first touch of Castiel’s fingers to his cock had Dean humming in pleasure. He shifted slightly, helping Castiel to pull him free and was rewarded by long fingers wrapping around the length of his cock and giving an experimental tug. He nearly bit his lip, groaning deeply. He’d wanted this for so long, now he was getting it and he really,  _really_ didn’t want it to end too soon. 

Castiel’s exploration of his attention starved cock had him back to full hardness in moments. He leaned up, captured Castiel’s lips with his own in a hard, possessive kiss, his hips beginning to rock, pushing his erection up into the Angel’s hand. 

He broke the kiss again only when he felt he needed to breathe, panting lightly, “Have you ever – with anyone, yet?” Fucking brain, he was reduced to broken sentences again. Castiel seemed to understand him though. 

“No, never.” 

Damn. Castiel still hadn’t gotten around to that particular human activity then. Despite himself, Dean felt a surge of possession and heated protectiveness, followed by the desire that came with knowing he would be Castiel’s first. He’d already shown him how good a blow job could be, now he wanted to show him everything else. 

He slid his hands to Castiel’s backside and pulled him up and closer, forcing him to kneel on the bench, pulling Jimmy’s slacks tight around spread thighs. This brought Castiel’s own renewed erection pressing in against Dean’s body. Dean grinned as Castiel’s hands gripped his shoulders for balance, long fingers curling into the rough fabric. After a moment, he sucked two fingers into his mouth, licking and coating them liberally.

Looking up, he grinned a little; Castiel watched him in silence, the trust clear in Jimmy’s features. He decided it was enough and moved his now wet fingers round and down, passing over the swell of muscle of his right cheek and into the furrow between the two. Castiel’s breathing deepened and he let out a small gasp as Dean’s fingers ghosted over the small hole. 

Dean kept his eyes on Castiel’s as he circled the opening, smearing spit, then pressed the tip of one finger slowly inside. Castiel’s eyes widened slightly, but he made no complaint. Biting his own lip, Dean pressed harder, deeper, until one long, blunt finger was inside.   
Castiel’s breathing came in short pants until he appeared to adjust. Dean watched him carefully and wasn’t surprised in the least when the deep, rough voice began to murmur broken quotes again, voice catching and breaking with every thrust and twist of Dean’s finger inside him. 

“But I will sing – sing of your strength, in – in the morning, I will sing o-of your love; for you – you are my fortress, my – my refuge in times of trouble.” 

Castiel’s voice had hit that low, rumbling timbre again, and it rolled over Dean like rich velvet, blocking his ears to any other sound. He let his eyes drift closed and pressed his lips to Castiel’s chest as the Angel continued to murmur quotes against his temple. Before long, Dean was scissoring three fingers inside Castiel, panting with his own need, almost impatient to be taking this further. 

He wished he had something better to use as lube, but they were rocking together on an ancient bench in a fucking church building, this was undoubtedly the best he could do. He vowed to himself that  _next time_ , they’d do this in a bed, with real lube and stark naked so they could  _see_ each other.  _Touch_ each other.  _Taste_ each other. 

“Cas’.” Dean pulled his fingers free and looked up at Castiel again, taking in his flushed cheeks, his wet, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. He could seriously get used to seeing that, seeing Castiel so vulnerable and wanton. “Y’ready?” He asked, his own voice roughened, hushed by the circumstances and perhaps the location. 

Castiel nodded, the fingers of his right hand trailing up Dean’s neck, into his hair. Dean took a steadying breath – he really hadn’t done  _this_  for a while, either, not with a man anyway – and took his cock in one hand, hastily spreading more spit over himself and guiding Castiel’s hips with his other hand. 

He certainly wasn’t used to intimate, not since Cassie, maybe Lisa, but this, this felt more intimate than anything he’d ever done. As Castiel lowered himself, as Dean penetrated him, slow and steady, they watched one another. Dean’s eyes never left Castiel’s face, watching every twitch, every shift in expression, knowing Castiel was doing the same. 

He had to bite his own tongue to stop himself uttering the word ‘God’ and ruining the moment, instead swearing again as Castiel took him in, his whole length, in one steady movement. When Castiel’s backside hit Dean’s thighs, Dean finally let go and groaned long, deep and probably too loudly, burying his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. He wrapped his arms round Castiel’s torso, under the shirt, hands on his skin, holding him tightly. 

Dean didn’t move, didn’t dare to move, for long moments. He simply sat, holding Castiel, listening to the Angel’s panting breaths as they stirred his hair. Castiel’s arms had wrapped around his neck again, his lips caressing temple, forehead, the soft skin behind Dean’s ear, his voice once again become a constant murmur of recitations, sending little thrills down Dean’s spine. 

When he felt he had composed himself, when he felt able to deal with the tight,  _so fucking tight_ , heat around his cock, Dean lowered one arm to Castiel’s waist and rocked experimentally, pulling out and thrusting back in again. 

Castiel’s voice became a growl, a feral sound, and Dean winced slightly as fingers gripped his head, his shoulder. “D-Dean. This – I didn’t – I never.” 

Dean bit down on Castiel’s throat before responding, thrusting again, again, slow and steady, letting Castiel get used to it. “Y’ok?”   
Castiel was panting, body beginning to move with Dean, pushing down with every upward thrust, “Yes – yes!” The word was hissed between Castiel’s teeth, into Dean’s hair as the Angel moved with him. 

“G- _fuck_!” Dean had to move his hands; he dropped them from their tight grips around Castiel’s torso and cupped the Angel’s backside instead, gripping and shifting his own lower body, spreading his thighs. He gave himself better leverage, held Castiel tightly and began thrusting harder. 

“All the - the Earth bows down to y-you; they sing - sing praise to you; th-they sing p-praise to - to your name!”

Castiel, voice once more catching on every thrust, straightened up. The Angel’s hands gripped Dean’s shoulders, maybe for balance, maybe to ground himself, Dean didn’t know. The Angel – for the love of everything holy – _began to ride him_. Dean couldn’t believe it was happening, but he was there, intimately involved, it had to be real. 

He moved his hands again, gripping Castiel’s hips bruisingly tight, helping the Angel to move, helping him to rock and shift and grind over him. It was all he could do to control himself, this was too good, this was unreal. He thrust with all he could give, pushing hard and deep into Castiel’s vessel with every ounce of strength, meeting the downward movements with fleshy thumps. 

Castiel looked – for want of a better term – stunning. Dean couldn’t look away, couldn’t risk missing this, even for a second. 

“Sp-splendour ah!-and majesty are befo-fore him; strength and j-joy are in his - his dwelling place.”

“F-fuck,  _Cas_.” 

Castiel’s head dropped forward, his body curving slightly, as if her were lifting something on his upper-back. Dean couldn’t think straight, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was something to do with Castiel’s wings. 

“Be-beloved, let us love - love one another: F-for Love is – is of God; and – and every one that – that loveth,” Dean could barely hear the words, but he got the gist of what Castiel was saying. His hands gripped Castiel’s hips tighter in response, his thrust surged harder and deeper. His heart was racing, his cock throbbing, he could feel the pressure of building orgasm and tried to will it back, so this could last longer.

“Is born of G-God and know-knoweth God… Be-beloved, if – if God so loved us, we-we ought also to-to love one an-another,” Dean – already moaning and panting in pleasure – groaned deeper than ever as Castiel’s chosen recitation washed over him. He kept watching the Angel, unwilling to miss any nuance of expression; it was obvious that Castiel was overwhelmed, though if it was purely the physical, or the emotional as well, Dean couldn’t tell. 

“God d-dwelleth in-in us, and His love, His love is per-perfected in us.”

“Fuck –  _fuck_ , Cas!” Dean had a feeling these quotes were deeper than a simple kink, but right now he couldn’t think to save his life. He surged up, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s body again, hips continuing to thrust as he pulled their bodies tight together. Castiel’s arms wrapped around Dean’s shoulders and neck, gripping just as tightly, fingers in Dean’s hair again. 

“Cas – fuck, Cas – This – I’m!” 

He could feel Castiel’s cock between their bellies, was aware of it rubbing with every thrust. Castiel had stopped talking now, his voice now engaged in moans of pleasure, breathed against Dean’s neck. 

It was sweaty, it was hot, it was more than a little rough and almost feral now, the way they moved together, the sounds they made. Dean couldn’t get enough of it. He knew though, he was nearly there. 

“D-Dean.” 

Dean gasped, lips pressed against Castiel’s shoulder and that was it. He kept moving, kept thrusting, as the orgasm washed over him, pleasure surging through his system as his cock pulsed inside Castiel’s vessel again and again and again. “Cas – Castiel!” He bit into the material of Jimmy’s trench coat as he rode it out, fingers scrabbling against damp skin.

When it was over, he didn’t miss a beat and pushed a hand between them, wrapping it around Castiel’s straining cock. “Cas, come on Angel, come for me, let go.” 

The words seemed to have the right effect, Castiel’s teeth bit into his shoulder, his hands tightened almost painfully. The Angel came after only a few tugs, his body tightening, almost contorting, Dean’s name on his lips in strained voice. 

“Dean – Dean!” 

When Castiel had stopped shaking in aftermath, when his breathing returned to normal, Dean let go and sat back, pulling the Angel with him, almost cradling him against his chest. 

“Fuck Cas, but we have to do this again,” he sighed, the breath ruffling Jimmy’s unruly hair. 

“Yes. That was – that was more than I expected it to be.” 

Castiel’s voice was softer, almost back to his usual gruff tone. Dean chuckled then shifted a little, beginning to get uncomfortable, however much he thoroughly – and he really did mean thoroughly – enjoyed being buried balls deep inside the Angel on his lap.

“Fuck, s’cuse me,” he muttered with a slight hint of embarrassment to his tone now. He helped Castiel lift off and move aside and before they’d even settled again, Castiel had worked that mojo of his and they were clean, though still un-tucked. 

“Yeah, Cas. That was… that was intense.” Looking own at his crotch, he snorted and tucked himself away, re-zipping and buttoning his jeans. He grinned when Castiel followed suit, though the Angel had to be helped when it came to tucking his shirt back in straight.   
On impulse – and he appeared to be suffering from those lately – Dean leaned over and kissed Castiel as he straightened the jacket and trench-coat. Castiel’s eyes widened briefly, then he kissed back.

Minutes later, they pulled apart and Dean grinned again, “Alright then. Next time, can we use a bed? Or is this the kinda shit that gets you off?” 

Castiel gave him a blank look. 

“Never mind. Bed it is.”


End file.
